


Mountains to Climb

by queeniesye



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Angst, Closure, Drama, Fix-It, Healing, Other, Tifa's path to healing, Tifa's settling her past like everyone else, implied depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29040981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queeniesye/pseuds/queeniesye
Summary: Running Seventh Heaven and managing the kids are now part of Tifa Lockhart's everyday life... Until an unexpected occasion would soon take her to a journey back to her past.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart & Barret Wallace, Tifa Lockhart & Cid Highwind, Tifa Lockhart & Denzel & Marlene Wallace, Tifa Lockhart & Zangan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. A Letter

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally written about five years ago, during one of the hardest periods of my life. It was a culmination of the misery that I was feeling about my situation, and my never-ending anger towards the writing on Tifa from the OG FFVII to the entire Compilation of FFVII. I wanted to talk about her pain, and I wanted to find a way to bend canon so Tifa could have her own arc about settling her past.
> 
> I've decided to convert this into a short story with mini-chapters, and also make some changes so it would reflect my current writing. I also want to turn this into not just a story about Tifa's pain, but also her journey to heal.

From narrow alleys in between grey buildings that were lining up the streets of Edge, a series of hoarse coughing persisted. Along with it, a cacophony of other noises were clashing; there was the sound of crying children and miserable adults, of people moaning in pain and of jittering teeth belonging to those shivering in the cold. They were all leaning against the walls, draped in frayed fabrics. Black blotches marked some parts of their skins.

Nearby, Seventh Heaven stood tall among other establishments. It was dim inside, suggesting that it was closed earlier than usual. Only a patch of light was left on at the area behind the bar counters.

Tifa was hovering over the sink, washing the last few remaining used glasses and mugs. When a few strands of her hair fell onto her face, she pushed them to the back of her ears while exhaling the deepest of her breath.

Radiators were deliberately turned down to economize on household spending, turning the air around the bar chilly. From the radio, a sappy song about losing a friend was blaring and synchronizing with the sound of clanking glasses and mugs, filling in the otherwise deafeningly quiet bar with clamour.

Tifa was wiping her hands dry with a nearby kitchen rag when the daily Midgar News at 10 programme began on the radio, preceded by a segment dedicated entirely to reports about current Mako levels across the Planet. As she predicted, Midgar’s Mako level was rising again. The news did not come as a surprise, yet her uneasiness remained. She found herself turning off the radio with a tightening in her chest, and a breathing so rapid as though she had been trudging through the white tundra of the Great Glacier in a heavy snowstorm.

Desperate to regain her footing, she settled onto a barstool and retreated into the solitude of her own thoughts. Only when her composure had slowly returned that she noticed a leaflet that was left on the counter, reminding her of the conversation she had with Elena about expanding her bar business. The leaflet was an advertisement on renting a commercial space at Costa del Sol.

Thoughts about the future summoned her back to the time when Seventh Heaven was set to reopen. She had sat together with Cloud and Barret, talking and laughing while drinking a special alcohol made in Corel. The next day, Barret suggested that they should start a business together, the same kind like what they had with the first Seventh Heaven, and she agreed.

But there she was… all alone. Barret left to find for atonement, and so did Cloud.

Cloud… yes, Cloud. Her thoughts wandered to him. _Where is he now? How is he doing? What is he doing now? Why… did he left?_ There were too many unanswered questions. A tinge of sadness fell onto her again, like it always does whenever she thought of him.

She had to remind herself, “No more crying, Tifa…”

A sigh of exhaustion was expelled out of her mouth.

_I deserve a drink tonight_ , she thought. It was all that she wanted to do.

The walk to the refrigerator was strenuous but worth every second once she got herself a can of beer that had been sitting in there for months since the purchase was made in Kalm. Leaning against the far end corner of the counters, she pulled the tab on her beer and quaffed a few sips. She winced when the beer’s extreme bitterness had engulfed her taste buds.

Yet, the clearing of her head beckoned her to keep on going… so she could forget; so she could no longer dwell in the past.

She drank and drank, until she thought nothing of time and the world turned dark.

* * *

A phone call coming from what was supposed to be Cloud’s office startled Tifa awake, frowning through lethargy until she came to the realization that she had fallen asleep on the bar counter. The room was spinning around her, causing feelings of nausea that forced her to linger by the sink to throw up food she had eaten the night before. A glass of water was all she could rely on to relieve the throbbing in her head. Ringing from the phone showed no signs of dying down, pushing her to walk up to the second floor with all her strength.

When she answered the phone, a man’s gruffly voice greeted her loudly from the other end of the line, “Hey, Tifa! Morning! How are ya doing?!”

She gave no answer to the question and instead, snuffled to mildly clear her stuffed nose.

“Uhh… I guess not so well?” Her sniffing had the man concerned. 

Tifa was pressing on the area between her eyebrows with her thumbs, hoping to alleviate the tension in her head. “Why are you calling so early in the morning, Barret?”

“I’m coming home next week!” Joviality had returned to Barret’s manner of speech. “I have arranged meetings in Edge with some oil executives to close deals for the next few months.”

Tifa shifted her position so she could see the time displayed from a small clock that was standing on top of a low bookshelf. It was six in the morning – a few more hours before the kids would be awake. “Okay, I’ll let Marlene know,” she told him.

“No no no! Let it be a surprise!” Barret protested.

Tifa did not question his motives. She understood all too well. Barret had been gone for far too long and his return would send Marlene ecstatic – especially, when she least anticipated it. “Fine… fine,” Tifa concurred with a smile.

The phone call ended and she was still in the room. She began circling around, with arms folded against her chest while she mused over the flow of her plans for the day. With her awake an hour earlier than the usual opening time of stores around the city, it was impossible to start her day with her typical primary chore of stocking up on food supplies and purchasing pain relievers for Denzel.

“What am I going to do now?” she wondered.

Making her mind took no considerable feat for she was not one to mull over her day-to-day arrangements. She had only three priorities: cleaning the bar, prepare breakfast meals for the kids and lunch meals to distribute at the soup kitchen she was frequenting.

* * *

From inside a pot on top of the stove, a boiling soup was bubbling. Tifa was nearby the tables, wiping their surfaces with a worn-out rag. Aromatic scent of herbs and spices was mingling with the smell of chemical from a cleaning detergent in the air. The radio was turned off, rendering the bar silent except for the occasional noises of slightly moving objects, Tifa’s footsteps and the bubbling soup.

Time was ticking forward until it paused to let the entrance doorbell ring, bringing in an unexpected visitor.

When Tifa turned her head to see, she found Edge’s mailman standing awkwardly by the doorway. In his hand was a brown envelope with no written address.

“There’s mail for you, ma’am,” he said, ambling towards her before arriving at a distance where he could hand her the envelope.

Tifa received it with hesitancy. Neither Barret, Cloud nor she had even thought about installing a mailbox outside the bar because none of them saw the necessity for it. They thought their phones were enough to keep them in contact with anyone outside the bar.

“Who… is this from?” she asked, flipping the envelope around to search for the address of where it came from.

The mailman shrugged. “As far as I know, those brown envelopes only come from Nibelheim.”

Tifa flinched. She never thought she would hear the word again. The place held some fond childhood memories… but mostly, her pain. She could never step foot in there again, even after they had managed to defeat Sephiroth.

But who could be sending her the letter, when no one in the existing Nibelheim knew who she was?

Intrigued, Tifa ripped the brown envelope in her hands to reveal a letter containing words written in a cursive style of handwriting. She recognized it from the same letter she found hidden in the piano of her Nibelheim home a few years ago…

With slight apprehension, she began reading…

_Tifa,_

_I am now back in Nibelheim again. I have not much time left but I believe that we have a lot of things to discuss…_

_Please see me if you have the time. I heard you’re living in Edge now with Cloud. Bring him too, if you must._

_\- Zangan_

With a heart that was drumming against her chest like a hummingbird pecking on a wood, she folded the letter close. She secured one of her hands against a table to stabilize herself and then nodded to tell the mailman that he could leave. The throbbing in her head that she thought was gone came back intensified.

 _Am I… ready to face the past?_ She had asked herself, over and over again.

Fear and doubt began to plague her mind.


	2. Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially wanted to release this chapter next week for ~ consistency ~ but I already finished writing the third chapter, so I don't see the point of keeping this chapter for much longer lmao. 
> 
> Mommy Tifa is the emphasis in this chapter!

“Kids! Come sit and eat your breakfast!”

Tifa’s voice was booming across the bar to call for the children to come down from their room, an almost daily practice for mornings in the household. She was stirring the pot when she heard the thumping of footsteps descending the stairs.

The familiar sound of Marlene humming a children’s nursery rhyme lifted the lines of her lips into a smile. Their small figures soon appeared at the curtail step of the staircase, before they were sprinting towards the bar counters. 

On seeing the food in her plate, Marlene made a little hop of excitement. “Look, Denzel! It’s your favourite! Pancakes!”

Denzel smiled, ruffling her front bangs as he climbed up a stool. The young boy seemed to fare well… except, he was not good enough in hiding things from Tifa. She caught the brief winces he made that he was trying incredibly hard not to show on his face.

She passed the children their favourite syrup toppings – caramel for Marlene and chocolate for Denzel, to which they thanked her, Marlene with keenness and Denzel with a more reserved manner. She watched the children drizzle the syrups onto their pancakes, before laxly cutting them into four slices and consuming them.

Marlene was humming again, finding pleasure in the wonderful taste of her breakfast. Unlike her, Denzel’s slower pacing hinted that he was having a hard time.

Lines of worry etched on Tifa’s face, “It’s hurting really badly now, isn’t it?” 

Denzel nodded hesitantly, almost too ashamed to admit it.

“It’s okay to tell me, Denzel,” Tifa sighed.

Her heart ached for the boy who seemed to carry some unspoken load on his shoulders all on his own. Never was there a time when she felt like it was easy to cross through the boundaries he had formed between himself and others. She was just a bystander, outside the gates of the field Denzel had trapped himself in.

Since Cloud’s departure, the young boy had become withdrawn, and more prone to tucking his feelings away, out of guilt and a need to avoid worrying Marlene and her.

“I’ll help put some oil and ice on it later,” she told him.

Denzel neither expressed his objection nor his understanding. There were only a pout and a frown on his face, common marks of him dwelling between feelings of embarrassment over his helplessness, and appreciation towards Tifa’s concern and willingness to tend to his needs.

Marlene had to lend Tifa a hand in convincing him. “It’s going to be alright, Denzel. We’ll make sure that it won’t hurt again.”

Tifa was still trying to figure out what it is about Marlene… she suspected it was her frankness that often worked on Denzel. The tenseness on his face had vanished, replaced by a genuine and relaxed smile on his lips. “Okay. Thanks, Marlene.”

Marlene was quick to introduce a new subject of conversation. She started talking about the gummy candies that one of the convenient stores in Edge had started selling. The young chatterbox managed to pull not only Denzel, but also Tifa’s full attention into every detail of her story: the way she found it fascinating how the candies came in different shapes and colours, and their varying flavours; some good, and others bad, at least the ones she sampled.

Their lively conversation carried on, only halting when disrupted by the ringing of the entrance doorbell. Marlene spun her head, all set to reprimand whoever entered for coming prior to the bar’s opening hours.

Standing by the doorway was Barret with an air of assertiveness. His towering figure may be intimidating to many, but for those who had known him for a long time, one look at his eyes and the cute toy he was holding in his hand was enough to speak of his true character.

The sight of him shifted the annoyance projected from Marlene’s face into that of delightful surprise. “Daddy! You’re back!” she jumped down from her stool and ran straight into Barret’s burly arms.

“I sure am, baby!” Barret laughed, lifting her up in his arms and hugging her. “I got you a toy too!”

The duo started giggling to their hearts’ content. Only when they stopped did Barret took notice of Tifa who was watching from afar. “I’m home!” he shrieked, as if he wanted to announce his arrival to the entire city.

“Welcome home,” she returned, barely containing her eagerness. She was glad that Barret’s presence seemed to have brim the household with more energy. “Come and have breakfast with us.”

Barret obliged and followed Marlene as she led him to a stool beside Denzel. From his behaviour around the young boy, Tifa could perceive a hint of reluctance. Though it was less to do with the disease, but more about discomfort caused by unfamiliarity with someone he just met.

She handed him a similar plate of pancakes that the children were having and told him, “This is the Denzel we’ve been telling you about.”

Denzel turned around to meet Barret’s gaze and shyly bowed his head down. “Nice… to meet you. I’m Denzel.”

“Nice to meet you too, son.” Warming up to Denzel came naturally to Barret; he has a soft spot for children. “I assume Tifa and Marlene have been treating you well?”

“Y-Yes…” Denzel answered nervously.

Barret chuckled, “I’m glad they have.”

Tifa fished through the cabinets to present to him a block of butter and a jar of honey.

“You’re quick!” he exclaimed, evidently impressed.

“I know everyone’s preferences in this house,” Tifa winked. “Even if they’re gone for quite a while!” Whenever possible, she made no attempts to hide the pride she has over her ability in managing the household affairs.

Barret had begun spreading some butter and honey onto his pancakes when her eyes darted towards the square clock secured on a wall above the plasma television. The time was ten in the morning – the beginning of the opening hours for the soup kitchen she was frequenting. She knew she had to continue on to the next part of her schedule.

“I would love to stay but I have to be someplace else now,” she said, while carrying a pot on her way to exit the bar. “I’ll be back before lunch.”

“Okay. You go and have your fun,” Barret said, waving his hand.

Tifa stepped out of the bar and started striding along the streets, passing by a crowd of residents going about their daily lives. Occasionally, she would greet those who she recognized as her customers, or those she were acquainted with. The sun was glaring down from the sky, casting shadows on an unfinished monument at the centre of the city square.

As much as she wanted to pretend like it was just a normal day in Edge, it was difficult not to ignore the echo of harsh coughing from hidden corners of the city; or the infection scarring the skins of so many, or the number of orphaned children loitering around.

Her thoughts drifted to the decision she had made the night before and guilt was settling again in her mind and heart.

She needed someone to confide with.

* * *

The clock struck fifteen minutes past midnight. Tifa was in the children’s bedroom, thanking them for their help at the bar and kissing them goodnight. She closed the door behind her and started climbing down the stairs, passing by walls full of photographs.

From the ground floor, she could hear Barret humming and the sound of rumbling machines. The door to the room adjacent to the pantry soon swung open, revealing Barret who was walking out, carrying with him the smell of her favourite laundry detergent.

“We… need to talk,” she said, leading their way back to the bar.

She started rummaging through the cupboards, intending to find the best drink that would loosen her nerves without muddling her head. Her hand caught a bottle of Mooglennay, produced in Rocket Town several hundreds of years ago. Judging from the position where it was kept hidden, the drink was meant for a special occasion. A difficult conversation with Barret is hardly something to drink to but she knew it was the best one to have.

“Hold on… that’s one expensive bottle right there.” Barret noted, uneasily. “Are you sure you want to have that tonight?”

“It’s alright. We have plenty,” she lied, in the midst of uncorking the bottle.

The cork popped off and she filled two glasses on top of the counters before taking her seat beside Barret. She downed her entire glass, surprising even Barret who knew of her high tolerance for alcohol.

“Hey hey hey. Take it easy!”

“I’m leaving.”

Resting an elbow against the counter and holding his glass in the air, Barret paused from drinking to look at her again. “What do you mean you’re leaving? To where and when?”

“The day after tomorrow, and to Nibelheim.”

“But… why?”

Tifa shut her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “I have… things that I need to do.”

“I… can’t really say anything to convince you otherwise, can I?”

“No… no, you can’t.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Barret had another few rounds of his drink, and then filled his glass with more. “Have you told the kids?”

“No… I haven’t.” She pressed a palm against her forehead, “I don’t know how.”

“But you have to somehow.”

“I will.” She started tilting the glass in her hands. “I just need to figure out how first.”

There was a pain in her chest, like her heart and lungs were made of ice and they were cracking by each passing minute. It was the same kind of pain when her mind would relive the night of terror when her hometown went up in flames; the same kind of pain when she watched Barret walked out of the door, and the same kind of pain when she woke up to find Cloud gone and nowhere to be found.

Then she thought of the smiles she had the privilege to see from Marlene and Denzel’s faces, and their little hands that always seemed to be seeking for her comfort.

She will be inflicting the same kind of pain to them.

And the thought made her so angry with herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think one of the things that is often overlooked by not only fans of FFVII but also the canon materials is Tifa's feelings about Barret leaving. There's a deeper account about her feelings when Cloud left, but none whatsoever for Barret. So I hope that what I write for this fic is able to note that Barret is also an important person to Tifa and him leaving *must* have affected her in some way. 
> 
> Also! Soup kitchens! Yes, why shouldn't there be soup kitchens in the devastated city of Midgar where most of the residents are probably homeless and sick with an incurable disease? And why wouldn't Tifa be helping in these soup kitchens?


	3. On The Way Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tifa's journey through dry parts of Gaia's landscapes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter makes me wish for a FFVII instalment on Tifa's story alone, like Vincent's Dirge of Cerberus!

Gold Saucer was as colourful and merry as Tifa had always remembered it as.

From the Chocobo Square, Chocobos of different shapes and sizes were chirping with exhilaration or stress as they raced to the finishing lines. Screams of terror were roaring out of visitors who had enough courage and curiosity to stay at the haunted mansion _cum_ the site’s only inn. Heading further south were lovers who walked hand-in-hand to take part in a gondola ride that would offer them a beautiful panoramic view of the site. Meanwhile the rest of the boisterous visitors were crowding the Wonder Square, eager to gamble in the casino, or get their fortunes told, or simply to play arcade games.

It was a whole different world in the amusement park, as though the Geostigma pandemic and the massive number of casualties and death it carried were nothing but a nightmare that anyone could wake up from.

It is for this very reason that the amusement park was able to continue raining with profits, unlike other commercial sectors during one of the Planet’s most devastating episodes. People flocked to it to forget about the wretchedness that was ongoing at the world outside.

Tifa was at the Battle Square, pottering around a small showroom with checkered tile flooring. Her eyes were scanning through a collection of trophies and other items on display until they landed on a portrait that was meant to be the centre of the room.

From outside, a series of heavy footsteps were moving closer to the showroom. When they stopped, Tifa turned to find the man in the portrait had manifested before her: a heavyset person who seemed to have no trouble spending his entire life in the gym, with a stylishly long moustache that sat below his finely shaped nose, and a hairy chest.

“It’s nice to see you again, Dio,” Tifa greeted with a smile.

Dio’s eyes sparkled with recognition, “It’s nice to see you again too!” With hands on his hips, he lunged forward to ask, “Now, how can I be of help?”

“A similar favour to last time,” Tifa chuckled, amused by Dio’s trademark eccentricity.

“You want to ride the buggy again?”

She gave him a nod of her head.

The buggy was a vehicle that was gifted to Tifa and her friends by Dio as a compensation for throwing them down into Corel Prison after wrongly condemning them for something that was not of their doing. They had to return it back to his care after Cid managed to steal the Highwind from Shinra and turned it into the party’s main mode of transportation around the world.

Uneasiness started shaping the language of his body, “I mean… sure, I can give it to you again but…” There was a brief pause as he circled a hand around his chin, mulling over the right words to continue his sentence. “It’s not going to function as good as it used to. It is after all… an old car.”

“That’s fine. I just need it for a short while,” Tifa shrugged. “I can always walk if it breaks down.” Life had taught her to keep her options as wide as possible.

Dio’s ensuing silence was a telling sign of his continuing apprehension. But he knew it was not his place to stop her, “Well… suit yourself. I’ll have the buggy ready outside Corel.”

“I would appreciate that very much. Thanks, Dio.”

He walked past her and halted at a spot in front of his portrait. A prideful grin curved the corners of his lips as he narrowed his eyes. “How are the others?”

“I think… they’re doing fine,” Tifa was pacing around the room again. “We went our separate ways.”

Dio took a handkerchief out of a pocket of his boxer and started wiping his portrait with it. “So you’re living alone now?”

“No… Barret, Cloud and I have decided to live together with some kids,” Tifa explained, shaking her head. “But… Cloud’s no longer with us because he left so…”

Dio turned himself around and she saw his eyebrows were lifted with curiosity; the same curiosity she had been facing from others for quite some time. She could almost hear him ask, _why did he left?_

It was the _only_ question that her customers had asked her about for the first few months after he left. And she hated it. She hated having to explain why he left… when she did not even know the answer.

She cursed herself for letting that one sentence slipped from her tongue.

Dio returned his heed back to his portrait, as if he was no longer interested in prying. “That’s life for you!” he exclaimed, with a pitch in his voice that was higher than one he normally use in his speech.

It did not take long for him to finish cleaning the surface of his portrait. When he was done, he tilted his head slightly to the left, and then to the right, making sure that the portrait was really clean from all angles, before nodding with satisfaction.

“Well! I think it’s best for me to go and prepare that buggy for you now,” he said, and began making his way out of the room.

Midway, he made a stop to give her one last look, “If you have time… please come again and have fun.”

Tifa caught the look of sympathy on his face, before he finally left the room.

* * *

On the western continent, a long and flashy eight-wheel buggy was steering along the dry and hilly pathways around Cosmo Canyon. Bumping against scattering rocks of different sizes, it shook and rattled, as though the end period of its use was nearing.

For Tifa who was at the driver’s seat, the rocky journey was less of a concern for her than the three green entities with hard shells covering their backs that had been chasing her incessantly since she started driving around the area. She did everything she could to lose them, only to find them still tailing the buggy, holding sharp harpoons tightly in their hands.

She huffed out in exasperation. “So you _really_ want to play, huh?”

“I’ll show you how to play.” She parked the buggy at the base of the reddish-brown hills, then tightened her Premium Heart gloves around her hands.

Closing her eyes, she drew in three rounds of deep breath, until her energy began concentrating around the core areas of the muscles surrounding her arms and legs. Once set, she swung open the door and leaped out of the buggy. Then she sprinted forward until she was close enough to the entities to study their build.

One of the entities started darting towards her and swinging its harpoon, provoking her to ready a defensive stance. The first attack she dodged with the back of her arms that were armed with protectors, the second by ducking down and the third by cartwheeling away.

An opening for her to counterattack occurred and she jumped right into the opportunity: two punches to the offensive entity’s abdomen and one to its jaw. As it was reeling backwards, she gave one of its legs and its head two hard kicks.

The sight of the dead first was affecting the second which had been running towards her in fury. When its mouth started moving, blue voltaic lights began to circle her, only to culminate into nothingness.

Tifa let out a sigh of relief, for she had just dodged an ailment that could have caused temporary blindness. The red gem of a band that she had around one of her fingers twinkled. “Good thing I’m wearing the fairy ring.”

There is no way to dodge a monster that is out of control without retaining some injuries and she understood that well enough. There was only one method that she could do to stop the second before it could reach her.

She took out a blue Materia she had stored inside her pouch and inserted it into one of the empty slots of her gloves. No longer than a minute afterwards, she began to feel the power of the crystalized Mako coursing through her veins. At an appropriate interval, she stretched her arms forward and watched as blocks of sharp frosts penetrated the second entity to its peril. 

Not wanting to let the Materia rule her head, she took it off and placed it back to where it was. The third was already a few distances away, but she spent the little time she had to shut her eyes again and did several more of deep breathing.

When she opened her eyes, the third was right in front of her, ready to stab her with the pointy end of its harpoon. But she would not let it. One somersault from her leg, and the third was sent flying away in air, before falling somewhere on the ground to its death.

She watched their carcasses and dusted off her hands. Then she was back in the buggy again, looking at herself through the rear-view mirror and fixing her hair.

She needed that fight, not least because of the conversation she had with Dio, and the fact that she was nearing Nibelheim.

She restarted the buggy and began driving it again, all the way to the stream that separated the Cosmo area from another patch of land full of mountains.

The grip Tifa had around the steering wheel tightened.

Crossing the stream would take her to the Nibel area and she needed all the energy to brace herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, the story didn't end where this chapter began. The hop in plot was done on purpose 😏


	4. Aged Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tifa's finally back in Nibelheim again!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is what I need for Tifa and Zangan but isn't given by the OG, Compilation and Remake (so far)

For Tifa, revisiting Nibelheim was like walking into quicksand. Time had been reversed and she was forced to drown in a memory that she never wanted to remember.

In this small village, she was sixteen years old and in her cowgirl outfit again. The phantom sound of her heels clicking against the ground rang in her ears and she could see the shadow of her former self striding along Mount Nibel trails as the enthusiastic tour guide she once were.

The village was as eerily similar as it was when she left it before rousing and restarting her life in Midgar. It was almost as if the fire that happened five years ago was nothing but part of her hallucinations.

The houses with roofs made of red tiles; an inn that was right next to the item store; her house beside Cloud’s, and the water tower at the heart of the village with its creaky moving windmill. There was no doubt that it was her Nibelheim – hers and Cloud’s.

And yet… she knew it was not. Walking into any of the buildings in the town would lead her into run-ins with residents who would deny her own recollections of her past, and even the truths behind what really happened that Sephiroth had told her and her friends.

Tifa decided to stop by the inn first, thinking that the person she was looking for would be staying in there. Upon her entry, the look of boredom on the innkeeper’s face turned into a scowl. It was the same man she met a year ago, whom she called a liar _because_ he did lie, like everyone else living in the village, about being born and raised there.

He opened his mouth, almost saying something, only to leave his words hanging in the air when a woman running down the stairs from the second floor drew his attention.

“That old git doesn’t want anyone near him!” The woman complained as she was storming into the kitchen located behind the reception area. Tifa heard her muttering profanities and slamming objects against hard surfaces.

“Let him starve,” the innkeeper said, brazenly. “There’s no use in reasoning with him.”

Tifa knew immediately who they were referring to.

She hovered over the reception desk and handed the innkeeper several pieces of silver gils. “100 gils per night, isn’t it?”

The innkeeper eyed her with suspicion, “You’re handing me 700 gils… so you’re staying for seven nights?”

“Well, you may be a liar but at least you get your math correct,” she countered, smiling with irony. She wanted him to know that none of the residents in the village, including him, had her fooled yet with their deceptions.

She heard him tut but refused to lend him the chance to show her the fury on his face; she was already climbing up the stairs, ignoring him as he yelled, “Don’t you dare make any troubles here!”

* * *

At the landing of the second floor, Tifa could hear the wheezing and incessant coughing of a man. Wafting in the air was the minty scent of some herbal medicine that the man was probably relying on to alleviate his sickness. She walked into the inn’s only resting quarter and found that one of the beds was already occupied by the exact person that she came all the way to the village for.

Zangan was covered underneath a thick quilt on a bed at the far left end corner of the room. The passing of years had marked his advanced age on his face through his sagging jowls, and the many deep lines wrinkling his forehead and the corners of his eyes. Though vulnerable he may seemed, his built remained as brawny as Tifa recalled from her years as his student.

“Master… I’m here,” she spoke as she knelt on the floor by his bedside.

Zangan sluggishly opened his eyes, wincing now and then to swallow away the pain that was weakening his body. His face glowed with tenderness as he laid his eyes on Tifa, “Thank Gaia. You’re finally here.”

“It’s been… such a long time since we’ve last seen each other, huh.”

Her lips started quavering. The sight of her master, another familiar from her old Nibelheim, was the comfort she needed for the soreness of her heart. Even so, his condition – his frailty served as a warning to her that their time together may be severely finite.

She could not bear the thought of losing another person – another fragment of what was left from her hometown.

When she started crying, Zangan reached a hand out to dry the flood that had spilled from her eyes. He let out a soft chuckle, “Why are you crying?”

The kindness in his manner evoked memories of when she used to throw tearful tantrums after failing to perform techniques that she desperately wanted to master. Zangan would always console her, though never without laughing whole-heartedly. 

“Ah, I wonder why!” she finally answered, growing embarrassed over her show of vulnerability.

The smile on Zangan’s face gradually disappeared as he started fiddling his fingers. “I’m sorry…” Remorse had quietened his voice. “I’m sorry that I left you alone.”

“I know I told you that I left because I couldn’t stay in one place for too long but…” A feeling of incredible pain was reflected from his eyes, masked beneath a calm demeanour as he gazed at her. “The truth is… I had to do it to protect you.”

Tifa shook her head, “It’s alright. I get it.” She knew that anyone in Zangan’s position would have done the same. Witnesses to any of Shinra Corporation’s best kept secrets are never going to be safe, especially not when they are together in one place.

Zangan was coughing again and when it seemed like it was never going to stop, Tifa went to the round table across his bed, intending to pour him a glass of herbal tea. “Life in Midgar was pretty rough after my recovery…” she said, eyes fixed on the glass to watch it fill. “I lived off the streets for about a year.”

Handing him the glass, she carried on, “I don’t know how it happened but I got into a fight with a bunch of thieves… and a man named Barret saw me beat them up.” She laughed, amused by how gutsy her younger self was. “My skills impressed him enough to be recruited into his team, Avalanche.”

“ _That_ Avalanche?” Zangan’s eyes widened with admiration.

Tifa gave a nod, “Yes. That Avalanche.” She sat onto the bed next to his, before looking up at the ceiling. “It’s the only way for me to get back at Shinra.”

Her eyes trailed the wideness of the ceiling, until her mind began settling on thoughts about the Sector 7 bombing mission. She felt her nails digging into her skin. “I did… a lot of things.”

 _Things that I’m not proud of_ , she wanted to say.

Joining Avalanche was not something she would ever regret, but the mission left a bitter taste in her mouth, so much so that she had begun second-guessing all the rage that had snared her from within.

“I’ve seen in the news… about what happened to Midgar’s Sector 7,” Zangan was broaching the subject with hesitance. “And I knew it couldn’t have been all Avalanche’s doing.”

Everyone who knew of Shinra’s deviousness would have guessed the same thing, and Barret had also told her something that was somewhere along Zangan’s line. But to her, these words were meaningless. A lot of innocent people still died and she was part of the cause.

She laid herself against the bed; her body was begging to be released from the weight on her shoulders. Then she heard Zangan speaking again, “Tifa… there’s actually something that I want to do here with you.”

“What is it that you have in mind?” she asked, slightly lifting her head up to turn at him.

“I want to speak with the people here.”

Tifa remained still. Some parts of her was dreading the thought of hearing things that she never want to know, but other parts of her gravely wanted to lift the veil that had shrouded the village – her hometown, with endless lies.

Zangan rolled himself over so he could see the view outside from the resting quarter’s small window. “I want to know what really happened here after we left.”

“I am sick of not knowing the truth.” There was sharpness in his tone, as though these words had been dwelling in his mind for years, only resurfacing like once hidden dry islands during low tides.

Tifa shut her eyes to ponder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've debated with myself about whether I want to incorporate some elements from the Remake (particularly, Marle's role) to fill in Tifa's background story pre-FFVII. Initially, I wanted to but then I realised, even if I did, it will still not answer the question of how she ended up in the slums of Midgar after her recovery at a hospital which I assumed to be located at the upper plate. I also doubt that Zangan would send her to a hospital at the slums that would most certainly be ill equipped if she needed intensive care. 
> 
> So I thought of an alternative scenario instead, one that would single Tifa out of all those living rough in the city in Barret's eyes (or other Avalanche members, really).


	5. Ugliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's the worst thing that Shinra Corporation could possibly do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone looking for FFVIIR's softer Tifa will not find her here! I've maintained the rougher parts of her OG self.

Huge stained glass windows were covered with heavy dusts floating in the air. Walls were marked with black and dark green blemishes of moulds that left a trail of musty stench. The wooden main staircase was severely damaged by holes dug by a colony of termites; only those who have enough courage would risk climbing the wobbly steps. Electricity was no longer running, turning the whole place into a dark den where one could hardly take a walk around without stumbling on an item or two.

Such was the state of the abandoned Shinra mansion located at the outskirts of Nibelheim.

Tifa was in a bedroom on the second floor, just a few steps away from entering the basement. Impeding her passage was an entity that was sitting on a huge blade-like pendulum that was swinging from west to east.

When the entity was rotating the pendulum, Tifa recognized that it was preparing an offensive stance. It had begun swinging one of its sharp ends in a south to north direction, evidently aiming to attack her.

Hopping slightly away from the pendulum’s targeted area enabled her to evade the attack, though not without some deep cuts on her upper right arm. A stream of blood began dripping from her wounds, bringing a sense of urgency in her to end the combat as quickly as she possibly could.

She thought of one vital strategy that would prevent the same assault: remove the entity from the pendulum. With haste, she dashed towards the entity and landed two punches on its chest and several kicks on its hands and legs. It fell onto the floor and as Tifa had predicted, its focus became less about defeating its foe and more about finding a way to climb back up the pendulum.

“There’s no way I’m letting you back up there!” Tifa rushed to land several more punches and kicks onto the entity until she was certain that it was no longer alive. Reliant on the entity’s magical ability, the pendulum broke into several pieces before disappearing into thin air, following its master’s fate. Tifa finally had the chance to dress her wounds with a roll of bandage she had stocked up in one of her pouches.

She then began her descend down the spiral staircase to the basement of the mansion.

Once in the basement, she had to walk through a dim passageway that would take her past the chamber of coffins where she and her friends first met and recruited the aloof Vincent Valentine. At the far end of the basement was her intended destination: Shinra’s former secret lab.

There were shelves full of liquids in glasses that appear menacing enough not to be touched. Stacks of books scattered all around the floor, and those that remained in some of the other shelves were no longer arranged in order. On the only table in the room, cobwebs had covered apparatuses that were no longer in use. Nearby, a strange device that was connected to two huge glass tubes sat eerily in one corner.

A chill ran through her body; the sense of doom that she felt when she first entered the lab came rushing into her again. It was the place that had led to the demise of everything and everyone she had loved and cherished, after all.

Obscured within the lab were written records that had driven Sephiroth into madness… and she needed to know what he had read and learned on that ominous day.

“Let’s see… anything to do with Jenova…” She began by fishing through the shelves for books and filed paper reports about projects related to Jenova. Out of the abundance of available materials, she chose pieces that interested her the most: diary entries about Sephiroth.

Taking a seat against the hard floor, Tifa started flipping the pages of papers in her hands to skim through their contents. Several diary entries later and she already knew so much about how Sephiroth _happened_ – his birth, what was administered inside him, the constant monitoring of his ‘progress’ and the changes that morphed some parts of his body…

“It’s like… he’s just a lab rat to these people,” she found herself mumbling.

Sephiroth’s madness was finally making sense to her. To a certain extent, he was no different than her in their hatred against Shinra.

But there was one thing that she would never vindicate him for.

“Why must _we_ suffer?” She asked as she thought of Nibelheim swallowed by the blazing fire, her dead father… and Aerith.

She wanted to ask Sephiroth for a reason, regardless of how futile any attempts to get a rational answer on the question may be.

Time ticked forward as Tifa carried on reading another barrage of reports on Sephiroth. The more she read, the more agitated she became. Senseless, cruel and inhumane – these were the three words that kept traversing her mind as she thought of Shinra and what they had done to _achieve_ Sephiroth.

It made her wonder about what other atrocities were developed and inflicted on Aerith, her Cetra mother and Nanaki in the labs at Midgar.

* * *

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

It had only been an hour since Tifa left the Shinra mansion to return to the inn, overwhelmed by grotesque details of a long buried nightmare. Thoughts about what she had read would leave her trembling and yet, she no longer had the patience to wait for another day to seek for more truths. There was concern casted from Zangan’s eyes as he looked at her; he knew that she was nearing her breaking point.

“Yes, I am,” she insisted. “If I wait any longer, I’ll go crazy.”

“Very well then,” Zangan said, resigned.

With the help of a cane, Zangan pushed himself up to rise and plod across the room towards the exit door while Tifa tailed behind. At the staircase, she let him rest an arm around her shoulders to assist him in maintaining his footing as they climbed down together. Once they had arrived at the ground floor, Zangan went ahead to sit at the table that was right next to the inn’s entrance.

Tifa positioned herself a few distances away from the reception desk, with arms folded against her chest and a glower on her face.

The innkeeper started jittering in cold sweat. “Why-Why are you looking at me like that?”

“We want to talk,” Zangan asserted. “I think you and everyone else in this village owe us an explanation.”

“Like I said, I was born and raised here!” the innkeeper argued, slamming his fists against the desk. “Whatever it is that you think had happened here didn’t happen!”

The thin thread that was holding Tifa together snapped. Red hot rage had overtaken her head.

She marched into the kitchen. The first knife she saw on the chopping board was beckoning for her to grab it and so she did. Then her eyes landed on the woman who was washing dishes by the sink. Before long, she already had one of the woman’s arm twisted behind and the knife in her hand placed on the woman’s throat.

“Move!” She shouted, commanding the woman through a slight but rough push forward.

Reduced into sobs, the frightened woman obliged.

Holding the woman captive, Tifa emerged out of the kitchen and into the reception area, alarming not only the innkeeper but also the speechless Zangan who did not think that she would go thus far.

“Speak, or I’ll cut her throat!” Tifa spat her threat with every intention to make it real if her demands were not met.

Out of fear, the innkeeper hung his head. “Fine… I will.”

“ _Who_ exactly are you people?” Tifa asked, beginning her interrogation.

Tenseness defined every bit of the innkeeper’s demeanour as he gave his answer, “We-we’re just ordinary people who came from all over Gaia – Midgar, Junon, Kalm, Wutai, Rocket Town – wherever, you name it. Shinra recruited us for ‘damage control’.” He paused to gulp before continuing, “At first, we didn’t know what that actually mean. Shinra never really told us what our exact role is supposed to be.”

“How did you end up in Nibelheim?”

“They brought us here and told us everything that we needed to know. Sephiroth… the fire… and that the village was reconstructed.” The innkeeper shut his eyes, as though pained by his own recollections. “They told us that they would pay us, as long as we keep our mouths shut and pretend like this is our hometown.”

Zangan scoffed, echoing the same feelings that Tifa was having. Shinra’s slyness did not come as a surprise to them, though its reiteration remained agitating to hear.

There was a speculation that Tifa wanted to clear, “Did they tell you if there were any survivors?” She had never stopped hoping that there were more people besides Cloud, Zangan and her that had survived the fire. 

The innkeeper lifted his head up to look at her and nod. “Yes… there were several of them.”

“…What happened to them?” She had almost avoided asking the question, for she had a hunch that she would not like the innkeeper’s answer.

“Did you… did you notice the figures wearing black capes that were loitering around the village?” When Tifa dipped her head, he carried on with a quivering voice, “Those were the survivors… they said a Shinra scientist had turned them into test subjects.”

Zangan sprang up from his seat. His face was coloured in shock, “What did you say?!” 

“What about the bodies of those who had died? What happened to them?” Tifa tightened her grip around the hilt of her knife.

She refused to believe that Shinra had them buried somewhere with respect. She had spent many years wondering what they had done to hide the bodies of the dead residents of her old Nibelheim, including that of her father’s.

“They were tossed down Mount Nibel from the bridge towards the reactor.” The innkeeper hung his head again, ashamed by his knowledge of an untold dirt. “Because Shinra knew it’s the only way for people not to find them.”

His words quietened the world in Tifa's mind and ears. 

Her thoughts wandered to the fate of her father. She heard the cracks on his skull and bones as his body landed with a thud against the earth; felt the lonely years his remains had spent somewhere at the valleys of Mount Nibel and pictured them rotting as they waited for her to find him.

Blood was rushing to her head again.

All she could see was red, red and red.

She had pushed the woman aside and pointed the knife at the innkeeper. Her mind was filled with images of her stabbing him to death. Only the strong arm belonging to Zangan was holding her back.

“VILE WRETCHED MONSTERS! YOU ARE ALL MURDERERS! SEPHIROTH, SHINRA… YOU! I HATE ALL OF YOU!”

She was screaming until she could taste blood in her mouth. 

She did not care how savage she must have looked like as she thrashed around under Zangan’s arm. She did not care that her anger was perhaps directed to the wrong person.

All she wanted was to claw and tear the innkeeper’s throat and those belonging to anyone like him for their silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there's never been, if not hardly, any speculation within the fandom or canon materials about what actually happened to the bodies of dead Nibelheim residents. We only know, or at least can assume what happened to the survivors. I would like to credit my Cloti Discord friends for explaining how dead bodies actually work in the FFVII universe! 
> 
> Here, my thought process was: how can Tifa mourn for her deceased father and everyone else from her Nibelheim when there's no grave, like the water in Forgotten Capital for Aerith or the cliff near Midgar for Zack. And what could Shinra possibly have done to these bodies to hide the truths behind the burning down of the village? I doubt that they would burn them because the burial method is rather respectful and they could care less about doing that!
> 
> So what's the worse thing they could have done? Right. Toss those bodies down the mountain, very reminiscent of the way FFVI's Kefka threw away the bodies of Espers who had lost their magic.


	6. Remembering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tifa is trying to cope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Depression

From the open small window came the sound of tweeting birds perched on tree branches, and the flapping of their wings as they flew across the blue sky. Cold draft travelled in, along with several rays of light from the morning sun, mildly enlivening the otherwise gloomy atmosphere in the resting quarter of Nibelheim’s only inn.

Tifa was lying in a curled up position on the bed located at the far right corner of the room. The charm of mundane everyday things were muted by her senses; they came to her in muddled forms that were not worth her care. It had been a week after Zangan’s and her confrontation with the innkeeper. She had cooped herself up inside the room with grief ever since.

Leaving the room was only necessary when she needed to have a bathroom break but that too demanded an amount of energy that she did not have. Moving ached her body and all her mind ever wanted was to shut down on her.

Food became the last thing in her mind. Swallowing ached her throat, and the thought of eating food prepared by the innkeeper or the woman sickened her stomach. She believed that Zangan’s determination in making certain she ate and drank something, even just a little, on a daily basis was what kept her alive so far.

Sometimes the woman would come into the room, Tifa supposed out of sympathy and guilt, to help bathe and change her. Often times she would adamantly refuse, other times when she was too weak to protest, she would comply – resentfully.

As she lied on the bed, her mind was replaying over and over again the visions she had about the broken deceased body of her father. The screams of anguish she heard when she was trapped inside the lifestream were making more sense. Those were of her father’s and everyone else still waiting for her to come and retrieve them; those were of the people in Sector 7 that died because of her.

If only she had known better.

She buried her face onto her pillow, wet her eyes and cheeks with hot tears and sobbed out all the heftiness from her chest.

The door to the resting chamber swung open and she heard the tip of Zangan’s cane tapping against the hard floors, before feeling his presence sitting on her bed.

“How long are you going to keep this up, Tifa?” she heard him gently ask as he brushed her head with his hand.

She said nothing in return. She had no answer to his question.

Exhaustion had blocked any thoughts about the future. All she looked forward to was an end to everything.

“Don’t give up, Tifa,” he said, as if he knew of her plans all along. “There are people waiting for you to come home.”

His last few words twisted her stomach into knots. They had summoned images of those waiting for her back in Edge. Some parts of her wished that they could pull her legs so she would start running back to them.

But the other parts of her had her cornered by questions about her worth as a guardian.

_How can I take care of them when I can’t even deal with my own problems?_

Her head started to throb, so she shut her eyes to fight the pain and wished that her soul would take her someplace else more pleasant in her dreams.

* * *

It was thirty minutes past eleven in the evening and Seventh Heaven was closed for business much earlier than the usual hour. Marlene was in her pyjamas, humming as she tiptoed into the children’s bedroom and climbing onto her bed. Denzel followed behind until he found himself sitting at the edge of his bed. A few minutes had went by when Tifa entered the room carrying a glass of water and a jar of pills.

Denzel groaned, “Can’t I just skip that for today?”

“Oh no you don’t, mister,” Tifa urged, shaking a pill out of the jar. “You must never miss your meds.”

He sighed, recognizing that there was no point in arguing with her. Instead, he stretched out the palm of his left hand to enable her to put the pill there like she always does. Then he chugged it down into his throat with the glass of water. The slight touch of the pill on his tongue left a spreading taste of bitterness in his mouth, making him wince with disgust.

Finding it difficult to endure the bitterness, he stuck his tongue out. “Urgh! They really need to start creating medicines that actually taste good!”

“Medicines aren’t supposed to taste nice, Denzel,” Marlene said, crawling under the cover of her cotton blanket. 

Annoyed by Marlene’s wit, Denzel grumbled in return, leaving Tifa chuckling with amusement by the exchange.

Tifa waited until they were both tucked comfortably in their beds. Once they did, their eyes became fixed on her as they anticipated her kisses and her help in turning off the lights on her way out. 

That night, the routine had been disrupted. Tifa was standing by their beds much longer than usual as she mulled over the conversation she had with Barret.

She knew she owed the children an explanation.

She held her trembling hands together and spoke, “I… have something to tell you.”

“What is it, Tifa?” Marlene asked in a voice laden with uneasiness.

Tifa’s gaze trailed from Marlene to Denzel, “I am leaving tomorrow…” 

“You’re leaving Edge?” Denzel sat up with panic set on his face. “Why?”

“There are… things that I need to do,” Tifa answered, holding back her tears. “Things that I need to settle.”

Marlene hung her head down in silence and pursing her lips together. She was fighting the impulse to protest. Tifa knew that the young girl was trying her best to be thoughtful. As Barret’s daughter, Tifa’s decision was an all too familiar scenario; her father had done the same for too many times.

“Can’t you settle them right here in Edge?” Denzel was pleading for her to stay.

“She can’t, Denzel,” Marlene uttered, still with her head down. “She has to leave.”

Tifa woke up the next morning to a sullen air around Seventh Heaven. It was two hours earlier than the children’s usual waking time but they were already gathered downstairs. The food on their plates that Barret had prepared for them were left untouched.

Marlene was sitting on Barret’s lap. Dark circles had deepened the areas under her eyes. Denzel refused to look at Tifa as she arrived at the bar area.

Parked outside was a pick-up truck, a signal for Tifa to say her farewells.

“Right! It’s time for me to leave now,” she announced, pretending as if the impending separation was not ripping her heart out.

Marlene started weeping and clung firmer onto Barret as he lifted her up in his arms. “I don’t want to say goodbye to Tifa,” she wailed, covering her eyes with her hands.

“This won’t be the last time I’ll be seeing you, Marlene,” Tifa said, holding onto one of her hands.

Denzel had stood up but would still not look at her. Barret noticed, “Aren’t you going to say goodbye to her, son?”

Denzel remained wordless.

Tifa exchanged a glance with Barret and sighed. She slung her backpack onto her shoulder and began her walk to the bar’s exit.

“You’re leaving because of me, aren’t you?” Denzel was muttering, rendering Tifa to halt.

“You’re leaving us – me, just like Cloud!” he said again, yelling this time. Tears had burst from his eyes and his body was shaking with sorrow and rage.

Tifa let out a gasp of disbelief. The last thing she wanted was Denzel to blame himself again for her departure.

She retraced her steps until she came face-to-face with him and fell on her knees. “No, you’re not the reason why I’m leaving.”

“You’re lying! What other reasons are there?!” His wet eyes had turned red as he clenched his fists. “I’m the one who’s sick! I’m the one who’s driving people away from here! I should be the one who’s leaving!”

Tifa profusely shook her head, “No, Denzel. I’ve told you last night why I have to leave and it’s all on me. None of it is your doing.”

Denzel started aggressively wiping the tears that had wet his cheeks with his arms.

“You have to stay here.” Tifa reached a hand out to cradle his right cheek. “Stay here with Marlene and Barret. Stay here and rest… and recover.”

“How long will you be gone?” he managed to ask as he sobbed and sniffed.

Tifa helped dab his tears away with her thumb. “I’m not sure but… it will be for a while.”

“Can you at least promise me something?”

“What is it?” she countered, holding onto his hands.

Denzel begged, with a breaking voice, “Promise me that you’ll come back.”

Tifa tightened her grip around his hands and smiled, “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ideally, I want Tifa to be out in the world, travelling with her master or doing something to perfect her art in combat, bartending or any other skills that she has. 
> 
> But then the question is: Would she really leave Denzel and Marlene who are essentially her kids? The answer is no. Tifa never just leave the people that she love! They are also her source of strength.


	7. Closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tifa's quest in finding for her father's remains.

Gravel crunched underneath the soles of Tifa’s boots as she trod through the winding trails of Mount Nibel. Dusts of sand were drifting in the air, blown by a breeze of cool wind. The scorching morning sun carried with it an intensive heat, soaking Tifa in sweat. When they dripped onto her forehead, she used her leather arm guards to wipe them dry.

The scenery was never changing; it was all nothing but barren wastelands and had always been that way since her time as a tour guide during her younger years. Although accustomed to the sight, revisiting it remained dispiriting.

Lessons she learned during her early years as a member of Avalanche and the journey she had with her friends a short time ago taught her places like Mount Nibel were never meant to become devastatingly arid. She could no longer count the many times she thought about how different the Planet would look like if Shinra had left the lifestream alone.

A series of ear-splitting screeches froze Tifa in her tracks just a mere few distances away from the derelict bridge towards the abandoned mako reactor. The screeches grew louder at each passing minute, proving to her that the living being making the noise was in pursuit of her. 

It was not long before she started seeing the outline of a flying creature heading to her way. As it floated above her, she could finally discern the blueness of its feathers and the red thorns wedged along its back. The talons on the creature had once put Yuffie in bed for a week with a sore gash.

“Better make this quick…” Tifa began warming up with a stretch of her arms and a few rotations of her feet prior to pulling a combative stance.

In one swift move, she dashed towards the flying creature and made a leap high enough to land a punch on its beak. It screeched in agony, hurrying Tifa to thump her fists three more times on its long neck in an effort to augment its pain.

The creature screeched again but this time in wrath as it started violently flapping its wings, creating gusts of wind that accumulated into a tornado and blowing Tifa into the air. She thudded onto the coarse ground and bumped her back against a solid rock formation. Groaning, she gradually opened her eyes, only to find that her visions had blurred.

“Shit!” With haste, she fished into her pouch for a small bottle of eye drops that she then applied into her eyes.

On regaining her eyesight, she wasted no time to continue her assault by landing a kick onto the creature’s abdomen before grabbing it by its neck and pounding it onto the ground. She waited to make sure that it was really dead and when it stayed still, she puffed out a heavy sigh of relief.

Her heed soon returned to the derelict bridge. She began crossing it, undeterred by the creaking noises it made at every step she took. She only made a stop halfway through her walk to crouch down.

Running her eyes along the hollow valleys beneath her, she recalled a memory when she had once fallen from the same bridge while searching for a way to reunite with her deceased mother. Now, she was being called again by her father.

“I’m sorry I’m late, dad…” she said, almost begging for his forgiveness.

The feeling of his presence from somewhere so far _yet_ so close was aching her heart.

The thought of not knowing where he really was and how to retrieve him worsened her grief. She wanted to do something – anything to find him, regardless of how dangerous and nearly impossible the expedition could be.

Unable to figure out where to begin, she decided to take her mobile phone out of her pouch and started scrolling down the list of contact names that she had. She was hoping that any one of them would stir in her some sort of inkling as to what do next.

And a name did.

* * *

Approaching the centre of the sky was the sun, roasting the dust bowl of Mount Nibel valleys with a severe heatwave. Traversing through the rock-strewn routes in between tall cliffs was a massive but rusted four-wheeled green cab. Attached to the roof was a long device that was sending radar signals to a blip screen installed inside the cab.

Keeping an eye on the screen was a man with a backward cap, chewing a discoloured gum in his mouth as he sat at the passenger seat. When inactivity from the screen bored him, he would look out of the window to find the same continuing backdrop.

“Man… what the hell are we even doing here?” Annoyed, he crossed his arms behind his head. “We should be working on the spare part for the new airship. Not here wasting time on searching for something we don’t even know if we’re going to find them.”

His partner’s eyes stayed on the road ahead of them as she manoeuvred the cab but she opened her mouth to rebuke him, “Shut up and keep a lookout on the screen.”

“Look at this place!” he cried, extending an arm forward to point at the vast land outside the cab. “It will take us _forever_ to locate them.”

A group of giant green mosquitos began tailing the back of the cab, pressing his partner to speed up. “It doesn’t matter. We do what the boss tells us to do.”

“Alright… whatever you say,” he shrugged before leaning his head against the headrest in resignation.

The cab drove through another fifty miles with the blip screen showing continual inactivity. He was on the verge of dozing off when a faint beeping sound startled him.

“Did we find something?” his partner had asked as he straightened himself up.

The image on the screen displayed marks of unidentified objects within the cab’s three mile radius. “I think… we did,” he said as the beeping grew louder.

At some point, his partner brought the cab to a grinding halt. The sight they beheld from beyond the windscreen was enough to rob them off their speech.

Recovered from his shock, the man swiftly grabbed the only standing portable transceiver from the dashboard and radioed his intended audience, “Boss. We found them.”

* * *

“Alright, we’re coming after ya.”

From half a mile away, a blue pick-up truck changed its route to follow the trail that the green cab had taken. The driver was Cid Highwind, who left his window down to let the outside air in. The midday heat and lengthy search mission seemed to not bother him as he whistled along to the music playing from the stereos.

With him was Tifa who marvelled at unfamiliar devices that had been installed in the truck, “I didn’t think you would have kept something like this, Cid.”

“Well, I needed something to tinker with during all those years rotting in town.” The truck made a curve as he turned the driving wheel. “I’m glad they can be of help now.”

Tifa was glad too. When she dialled him, all she needed was a piece of advice to guide her on where to find for someone who could take her down to the valleys. Instead, Cid had volunteered to help so he could test on some of his ‘old toys’ – or so he said.

They could spot the green cab from a distance as Cid broached a new subject of conversation, “You know… there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Then he gave Tifa a glance, “How’s life with Cloud?”

The question came as no surprise to her. Barret must have updated him on a few things, she assumed and now he was rightfully curious.

“Oh it was great… at first,” she said, smiling. “But then he left. So…” she shrugged, still smiling despite how hurtful her remark was.

“He what now?!” Cid almost pressed on the brakes. “That numbskull…”

They were getting closer to the green cab and she saw his subordinates waving at them. “Thanks for letting us borrow Barret for a while.”

Cid guffawed, “Oh don’t thank me! That bastard _insisted_ on going home.”

Tifa laughed knowing that Cid was probably not kidding.

As the truck was nearing the subject of their search, the mood between them became increasingly sombre. Cid parked right next to the cab and sat in silence with her as they stared at the view before them.

With a trembling hand, Tifa opened her door and climbed down. Her head spun under spells of vertigo as her eyes traced the scatter of skulls and bones. Almost all of them bore crack marks from the impact inflicted on their bodies as they hit the ground. 

And then she found her father… still in the outfit she had last seen him with while he was lying lifeless on the ground, slain by Sephiroth.

She wanted to sit and touch him again for the last time but her legs were too weak to move. An attempt was made, and she wobbled and fell onto her knees, scraping them with open bleeding wounds that did not hurt her as much as the thorns that had gripped her heart with sorrow.

Then she let out a wail after another wail, retching all the pain and rage she felt since she witnessed the fire that had burned down her hometown… until Cid came out and wrapped her under his arms.

* * *

The sun was setting when the remains were being buried at the front yard of the Shinra Manor. Tifa managed to remember all their names and had them carved on their tombstones, including that of her father’s.

Only the innkeeper and the woman working at the inn came out to assist. Other villagers chose not to be involved. It enraged her but the thought of not dealing with their bogus concerns was placating enough for her not to bust their doors down and drag them out.

“This is… Cloud’s mother?” Cid asked as he hovered over a grave marked as ‘Claudia Strife’.

She nodded her head and Cid went on to wash Mrs. Strife’s tombstone clean.

It was night time when the burial ended and Zangan decided to join them. He made a prayer to all those who were buried with words that Tifa once heard during a worship session at the pagoda in Wutai.

“Come and stay,” he said when he saw Cid walking towards the village entrance.

“Nah, it’s alright old man. My woman’s probably waiting for me to come home.”

Tifa did not protest for she thought it was unwise to keep him around when he had other more pressing matters to attend to.

She could only offer her thanks, “Thank you, Cid.”

Cid kept on walking but had raised an arm in the air to return her a wave of goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter revives my interest in exploring questions around the extent of Cid's abilities as an aerospace engineer. The design of the cab that his subordinates are using in the passage is largely inspired by a very faint memory I have about an episode from Cowboy Bebop. Though I have to admit that how I described the vehicle in the passage is much simpler than what I had in mind!


	8. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tifa's remaining months with Zangan in Nibelheim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is finally coming to an end! I'm glad that I've turned this story into a multi-chapter, mainly to satisfy the many questions I have about Tifa's arc. 
> 
> Any recommendations to other fix-it fics on Tifa's arc is highly appreciated! 😉

It was another quiet morning at the village of Nibelheim. Rain was drizzling and heat from the sun was mellow, marks of a seasonal shift from summer to autumn. Cold winds were blustering, rattling windows and bringing cold drafts into homes that had begun burning their fireplaces to keep warm.

In the resting quarter of the only inn in the village, Tifa stood facing a worn-out body opponent bag that she dragged all the way from her old room. She was performing a breathing exercise and stretching her arms downwards. Across her, a smiling Zangan was watching from his wheelchair.

From the top of her head, she felt her energy coursing to every corner of her body. With her concentration immensely improved, she started doing a bouncing footwork to ready her combat stance. After some time, she was finally dashing forward to pummel the bag.

She knocked four punches against the chest area with her fists before swinging one up against the jaw. The assault halted for a brief second as she did a single back flip. Once landed, she raised one of her legs up and then kicked the bag by its limbs and belly as she spun herself around. Unsatisfied with the amount of attacks that she had scored, Tifa struck the bag again at its arms and head.

Her demonstration earned her Zangan’s applause.

“Impressive,” he remarked. “I see that you’ve improved on my techniques.”

Flattered, she held both of her hands behind her back and blushed, “I had to. My lessons with you weren’t quite finished.”

“I see… but it’s still a seven out of ten for me,” he said, grading her skills. When he saw that the delight on her face had transformed into a slight pout, he chuckled, “You did great, trust me! Your form just need a little bit more work.”

Gesturing with her hands on her hips, she sighed out of humility, “Alright. I will make a note of that.”

Sudden uncontrollable coughing fits that were hitting on Zangan quickly deteriorated the pleasant air between them. From each and every cough, the rag that he used to cover his mouth became stained with blood. Tifa moved to help him to his bed, knowing that the coughing had gravely weakened him to a point where it was hard for him to stay awake.

At the round table located just across his bed, she started brewing a cup of herbal tea that would soothe his discomfort. As he lied in bed struggling with his coughing fits, she watched him with a sense of helplessness.

It had been three months since the remains of those who had died in her old Nibelheim were buried. From the time then, she chose to stay around to nurse Zangan back to his health, paying no regard to how delusive the endeavour would be. Zangan refused to be treated in a medical facility because he recognized that his disease, a different kind from Geostigma, was incurable.

“I would rather be free out here then hooked up to machines and dying!” he maintained.

She understood that he simply did not want his life to end someplace else than Nibelheim. It may not be the place where he came from but the village evidently held a special place in his heart. But for her, watching his body withering at the passing of days, weeks and months was agonizing. On some days, she could not sleep because she was so afraid of waking up and finding him no longer alive and breathing.

Zangan had fallen asleep when she placed the cup on his bedside table, something that never happened because he always looked forward to the relief that the tea would bring him.

That was when she knew that his condition was becoming worse.

* * *

Light from the full moon had brightened the dark sky, leaving no stars behind. Clumps of cloud were drifting, suggesting another impending rainy night in Nibelheim. Many stayed indoors due to the blowing cold winds.

Tifa was seated on a chair by Zangan’s bedside. She had only managed to feed him two spoonful of lentil soup. His stomach refused to have more; any further would send him vomiting out all the food that he had for the past couple of days and they were not a lot to begin with.

She could smell again the dreadful odour that his body was emitting. It started about a week ago when Zangan grew much quieter than he ever was as his ability to hold a conversation was sapping away.

She was losing him… she could feel it in her bones. So she grabbed onto one of his hands, as if to hold him down just for a little while. 

The deafening silence in the room was broken when she heard him mumble her name. She gave his hand a mild squeeze to tell him that she was still nearby.

As she drew her ear closer to his mouth, she heard him faintly mumble, “Please take good care of yourself.”

She started crying, spilling tears gathered from months of anxiously watching him grow thinner and frailer, and tears of finding the will to accept his looming departure from the world.

In between heavy heaves and sobs, she gave him her word, “I will… I promise.”

His eyes remained on the ceiling above him but the corners of his lips were upturned to bring a delicate smile onto his face. In her grip, his hand was growing cold.

“Thank you, Tifa... You will always be my precious student.”

As though Zangan had told her everything that he needed to, the lifting up and down of his chest soon came into a complete stop.

He was no longer breathing.

* * *

“I’m glad that we’re able to see each other again… even just for a short while.”

It was at the break of dawn when Tifa buried Zangan at the Shinra mansion graveyard with help from the innkeeper and the woman who was working with him. She spent the entire previous night crying her heart out, leaving no tears behind. Now, she wanted to face him with the strength and courage that he had instilled in her as his student.

She had so much of gratitude she wanted to convey to him.

With a bucket of water and soap, she washed and cleaned his tombstone to place a brass holder full of incense sticks that she had burned. Yuffie had taught her enough what needed to be done for the passing of their people, even if she does not share their beliefs.

On his grave, she laid down a bundle of purple flowers gifted to her by the innkeeper as a consolation. “Thank you for reaching out to me with the letter,” she said.

If not for his letter, she would have not made her return to Nibelheim to address the loose ends of her past. And for that her gratefulness to him was boundless.

She sat by his grave for a while… until she found comfort in the thought that he had left some bits of him in her through his art of self-defence.

_He’ll always be with me_. It was a thought that made her smile.

As she rose up to take her leave, her mobile phone started ringing in her pouch. The name displayed on the screen surprised her.

“You finally called,” she answered.

There was a short pause from the other end of the line before the person who was calling spoke, “Yeah…”

She was hearing Cloud’s voice again.

As much as she was happy to hear from him, the sudden call meant that something must have happened back at home.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, unwilling to stall their conversation.

“I was attacked by two guys,” he revealed, with wariness coating the tone of his voice. “And I think they’re going to be around for a while.”

_He wants me to come home._ His message was clear to her.

“Okay. I’ll make sure that Marlene and Denzel’s safe with Barret,” she answered, reassuring him. “Where are you heading to now?”

“Healen Lodge. Reno called saying Rufus wants to see me.”

Rufus. Hearing his name made her skin crawl. The documents she read at Shinra’s former secret lab and the experience she had finding and burying the remains of her loved ones were beckoning for her to meet and confront this spawn of the devil who provided the impetus to the total destruction of her old Nibelheim.

But more pressing issues at hand meant that she would have to wait for a more appropriate time. “Please be careful,” she said instead, genuinely worried about Cloud’s safety.

“I will.”

There was something else that she needed to say to him, “Hey, Cloud.” When he stayed on the line, she resumed, “Let’s have a talk… when we get back. There are so many things that I want to tell you.”

_So many_. She wanted to emphasize. Her journey back to Nibelheim was something she was glad to have done alone, not just for her resolve but also to protect him in his present condition. She can only tell him what she had learned when the time is right.

His answer was short and curt, promising her nothing, “Okay.”

Their call ended and Tifa decided not to dwell on it. She was determined to make it back home for the sake of the children. 

She gave Zangan’s grave one last look. “I’ll come visit again… with more flowers.”


End file.
